Tick-tock
Apparently, I'm still in the mood for some going-berserk-over-Dean-going-to-Hell season 3 Sam (or just berserk-over-Dean-in-peril Sam, in general). A teeny-tiny drabble to pinpoint an idea I've had for Sam's MO through that hideous year.
Though, not originally intended as a companion piece to 'Convenient to the longing', in retrospect, could be perceived as such. Especially in keeping with Sam's slightly compulsive nerdy ways, enhanced tenfold by Dean's impending doom.
Title: Tick-tock
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Characters: Sam, Dean (by default); Sam's POV
Summary: Sam gets a calendar and starts hating mornings. Set sometime in early season 3.
Spoilers: Nothing specific
Disclaimer: None of the characters, plot-points, inherent to the show, belong to me.
Tick-tock
Sam starts up a calendar. He considered setting up his watch on countdown, to break the upcoming year by each and every second, but didn't quite manage to deduce the exact timing. There's no telling if he was resuscitated simultaneously with Dean sealing the damned deal, first thing after, or right before Dean's arrival back to the cabin. And timing is crucial, for Sam knows he can't afford to miscalculate this way or another: short-shrift Dean's remaining life-span or venture into borrowed time. Not when it might come down to mere moments of Dean's existence at stake, anyway. By no means Sam's intending to let it get that far, but still…
So he gets a calendar. A pocket-size, soon crumpled thingy he can hide in his wallet, to cross out days, he hopes, inconspicuously enough; not until having made sure Dean is safely out of sight. And Sam refuses to label dwindling away stock of the precious 365 entries as time Dean's left to live. More like, the time left for Sam to pull Dean out of all this hellish craziness. The time left till they hit the road to the Grand Canyon. Doesn't really help with the 'dwindling' part, whichever way he looks at it. 365 days are only fairly long a duration as far as you're stuck snugly in day one. For good.
That's about the time Sam starts hating mornings. They've never had a problem with feather-light sleeping habits and wake-ups at oddest of hours. Goes into job description. Into the god-honest story of their life, for what it's worth. Yet Sam abhors the familiar cadence of their crisp morning routine now. For every single morning highlights a day gone. Another 24 hours short of a chance to restart the clock and end the year-lasting nightmare. To go back to measuring future by decades, not days. Dean's, as much as Sam's own.
Though, not originally intended as a companion piece to 'Convenient to the longing', in retrospect, could be perceived as such. Especially in keeping with Sam's slightly compulsive nerdy ways, enhanced tenfold by Dean's impending doom.
Title: Tick-tock
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Characters: Sam, Dean (by default); Sam's POV
Summary: Sam gets a calendar and starts hating mornings. Set sometime in early season 3.
Spoilers: Nothing specific
Disclaimer: None of the characters, plot-points, inherent to the show, belong to me.
Tick-tock
Sam starts up a calendar. He considered setting up his watch on countdown, to break the upcoming year by each and every second, but didn't quite manage to deduce the exact timing. There's no telling if he was resuscitated simultaneously with Dean sealing the damned deal, first thing after, or right before Dean's arrival back to the cabin. And timing is crucial, for Sam knows he can't afford to miscalculate this way or another: short-shrift Dean's remaining life-span or venture into borrowed time. Not when it might come down to mere moments of Dean's existence at stake, anyway. By no means Sam's intending to let it get that far, but still…
So he gets a calendar. A pocket-size, soon crumpled thingy he can hide in his wallet, to cross out days, he hopes, inconspicuously enough; not until having made sure Dean is safely out of sight. And Sam refuses to label dwindling away stock of the precious 365 entries as time Dean's left to live. More like, the time left for Sam to pull Dean out of all this hellish craziness. The time left till they hit the road to the Grand Canyon. Doesn't really help with the 'dwindling' part, whichever way he looks at it. 365 days are only fairly long a duration as far as you're stuck snugly in day one. For good.
That's about the time Sam starts hating mornings. They've never had a problem with feather-light sleeping habits and wake-ups at oddest of hours. Goes into job description. Into the god-honest story of their life, for what it's worth. Yet Sam abhors the familiar cadence of their crisp morning routine now. For every single morning highlights a day gone. Another 24 hours short of a chance to restart the clock and end the year-lasting nightmare. To go back to measuring future by decades, not days. Dean's, as much as Sam's own.